


Where the Sunshine Hides All Day

by Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega John, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex Trafficking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya/pseuds/Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Hamish Watson, aged seventeen, is much overdue for being taken onto the sex distribution chain in the dirty heart of London, England. Many omegas are taken when puberty is first visible (presentation, more specifically), and sold off to wealthy alphas to being bred. They must reproduce, that was what they were built for. John had managed to hide himself away from them for a time, but... Well, time catches up to us all. He was collared and leashed, and thrown out onto his 'pedestal', where old alphas would gawk and young alphas would grin, placing bids as they drank and chatted with one another. </p><p>That is, of course, until a buyer has his crystalline eyes glued right on John. That is when his whole world will flip itself right over, all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: My Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive! Oh my goodness, it's a miracle!  
> Yes, yes, I know. I haven't done...anything on here in like, forever. I've been writing, but nothing else is good enough to be published on here just yet. I'm confident about this one, though. I love the Sex-Trafficking AU, it's so angsty and fun to write! I hope you all enjoy this, and comments would be sooo appreciated! I really want to continue, but if nobody likes it, I don't know if I'll want to continue posting anymore of this. So, to the story!
> 
> There's a whole lot more to come, I promise. This is just the beginning, it's my hook... ;)

“Yeah, bastard’ll be in heat soon,” one man’s scratchy voice echoed inside his head, and he shuddered against his restraints, upper lip quivering as he tried to keep himself from whimpering.

“He’s a little old to just be getting’ here, why?”

“Stupid bitch thought he could hide with his pretty sister, he’s almost eighteen. I dunno how he managed to keep quiet for so long, but he’s all chained up now. Don’t worry about it,” Scratchy Voice continued, and John felt tears drooling down his cheeks. He felt clammy fingers curl around his chin, yanking his head up.

“How’s my little bitch? You’ve been crying, ‘aven’t you?” His voice was a vile taunt, and it made John’s head throb. He hated this. He just wanted to go home, be with Harry and Clara and the baby. He didn’t want to be property. He sniffled and did everything he was able to not look into those devil’s eyes. All the men (there were about four altogether) laughed heartily, some even doubling over a little. His dignity was crushed, and he felt like nothing more than some doll, just a hole to be bred, just a womb to be filled with children he never desired. He had been so hopeful. He had gotten into his first choice university, he had an internship at an internationally famous hospital, he was even considering the military. He had wanted to do so much, to make something of himself. Of course, he should’ve known. The day he presented was when he was locked in chains, not today. He’d lost his freedom years ago, he had just never wanted to admit it.

“Well? Answer me!” He felt a sting against his cheek, and a crack echoed clear throughout the small flat.

“Yes, I’ve been crying!”

“Yes, I’ve been crying...” Scratchy Voice reiterated, prompting John for something else.

John huffed, but when he spied the glower on the man’s face, he reconsidered the cheeky response building in his throat. He inhaled and exhaled calmly, before his eyes flicked up to the man and he grumbled out, “Master.”

“Good boy,” The man pet his cheek, actually soothing the sting a little. It made John want to vomit. He didn’t want to be praised, he didn’t want to be touched. It felt so wrong.

Though, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it. A bell jingled—no. It was an alarm notification!

“Ah, there we are, boys! It’s time for the show. Go on downstairs. Sit, relax, drink. You’ll have fun tonight, I’m sure,” Scratchy Voice informed his mates, and they enthusiastically agreed with that, departing not much long after.

“Come here, baby,” Scratchy Voice grasped the cold metal chain, and tugged him harshly. John fumbled, bracing himself on his hands and knees. The other man smiled wolfishly, and John felt his spine tingle with trepidation. He felt another pull to his leather collar, the weight of his distressing future heavy in the worn material.

With a harsh breath, he blinked his tears away. He was surprised there were any left. Then, with all the shame in the world pressing into his every vertebrae, he crawled across the carpeted floor like a good pet, allowing the man to lead him into a world he never even knew existed until just a few days prior. It was the moment in his life when his heart really, severely shattered apart in his chest, every broken piece jabbing at his bone and skin as an arrow would pierce a bird. Just repeating, repeating, repeating. Never stop, just going on and on, the pain the only constant in his life.


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and his buyer meet, and everything changes inside the seventeen year old omega. He just doesn't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, everybody! I didn't mean to have such a delay. It was my birthday weekend, and I was off in the city doing all sorts of things. I'm home now, though. I've been picking at this chapter for a few days, and I'm sick of that. So, here you are.
> 
> Also, I know this is still super short. I will make these longer, I just need the plot to thicken some more. Don't worry, guys! More is coming soon, I hope! :)

_When I was thirteen, barely three months after my presentation, my uncle Geoffrey introduced me to medicine. He told me that because I was an omega, I had more compassion than others. He told me that I could save lives, I just had to master the ropes. Dad had always saved lives, but he had to be overseas to do that. “With medicine,” my uncle said, “you can save the lives in your own front lawn.” After that, I spent hours, days, months, years preparing for my studies at university. I researched and I dug through everything. I wanted—I needed the best university. And, with all that effort, I got it. It was only a few months away itself... I had been so close. My foot had lifted off the ground, but it would never reach the step I wanted to take. I was frozen, trapped in this madness. I would never save a life. Hell, I can’t even save my own._

John felt itchy all over as his knees scraped against the harsh, cheap fabric stuck on top of the cylindrical platform he was currently presented upon. His wrists were bound with a soft silk-like fabric, and they rested behind his back. He knew it was more...fancy, he supposed, than most of the things the boys and girls being auctioned received, but that was only to attract the wealthy men and women who took the deals. Make the meat look expensive, and the expensive people will crowd.

“Alphas, welcome! Tonight is a very special night, we have plenty of new toys for you all!” an announcer began, and the people clapped and whistled and clinked their glasses.

“One of these toys is a naughty one, he’s been hiding from you all. He’s very inexperienced. Please, take care of him,” the man continued. John’s eyes followed his every breath and step. His hair was wispy and white, and his skin was saggy with age. John felt threatened by him. He couldn't be the first one announced, he couldn't! He didn't want to be, there were too many men old enough to be his bloody _grandfather_ ogling his naked body. Oh, that was so creepy. He felt so exposed.

“I am pleased to introduce the newest addition to our collection, John Watson!”

John was certain then that there was only hell, that heaven couldn't possibly exist. Any gods up in the sky were as merciless as it got.

“He’s a sweet blond, and has never been in heat before. He’s been fed suppressants, the poor thing. The bid begins at £500. Anybody willing to take home such a homely beauty?”

There was only silence for a few moments, inquisitive eyes bleeding into his every nerve. Then, the murmuring began. Different people in all different languages discussed him. No, no, wait. Not him, who he was wasn't important. It was just what he had. A hole to be bred. That was what he had been told. Just a goddamn lowlife, just a warm womb to be swollen and filled with babies. That was all he was, just a machine made for reproducing for the best alpha he could get his hands on. He felt like crying again. Bids increased bit by bit, and he felt himself shrink away with each one.

His upper lip quivered as he held himself up high, his eyes shimmering with the brimming tears. He dug his short, trimmed nails into the skin of his palm, eyes darting around worriedly. Suddenly, he felt himself stiffen. Two eyes were watching him, stalking him. They observed his every movement, and John felt every single puff of air against his skin as their eyes refused to gaze upon anything else. Two searing eyes melted right into his bones. They were as clear as the water dripping upon rocks in the deepest, most serene cave. The water swirled into the hue of driftwood in the widest of oceans, and the tops of the highest trees were dotted around in his spectacular irises. His pupils were large and seeped right into the irises themselves. John felt...enchanted, almost. In contrast to the eyelashes as dark as crow feathers and the skin a pale as a full moon against a starless night, they burned. They were vibrant bursts of colours, the first splatters of paint against a fresh canvas. Before John could even recognise the movement of the man’s warm-looking lips, he heard the noise.

“£100000,” the stranger bid, and John almost choked on his own gasp.

“What?” the announcer sputtered, and stared at the man with a loose jaw. “Sir, are you certain about this? That’s quite a lot for untrained boy, you must know.”

“I know.”

“If you’re positive,” The announcer straightened out his tie, eyeing John with a disapproving, subtle scowl.

“Are there any other, higher bids?” the announcer asked, uselessly. This deal was finished. He gave the countdown, and then everybody began to cheer for the buyer. Scratchy Voice was back, and doing as he always did, pulling John along with his stupid leash. Oh, how he wished to strangle that man with that leash.

John was passed from Scratchy Voice’s hand to the man’s, and he was nudged with someone’s foot, forcing him to press himself against the stranger’s leg. He peeked up at him, but was scolded immediately.

“Don’t you look at him without his orders, you idiot!” He was flicked on the back of his head, and he just took it. He had to.

“What’s your name, boy?” the announcer prompted, and digressed, one eyebrow quirked.

He felt gentle fingers in his hair, and he pressed his forehead into the softness of the stranger’s trousers, fearing what would happen once they were alone. But, compared to Scratchy Voice and everybody else in the whole damn joint, the stranger was the best he could get.

“Look at me, John,” the man whispered, and John gazed up at him, eyes cautious. Once their eyes found each other, the man smiled. It was a reassuring smile, not anything condescending.

“My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes,” he answered, and John knew that he would be forever curious when it came to this man. He didn't understand the allure, but he felt nice. He knew it wouldn't last, but hope was all he had left. He didn't have his body, his name, or his freedom as his own any longer. It all belonged to Sherlock Holmes, and he just needed to learn that. He would, over time. 

_I will not cry, I will not cry. This is my life, and I will embrace it. I will endure the hardship, I will endure anything..._

_I'm sorry, Dad._

_I'm sorry, Uncle._

_I wish I was still able to make you proud, but that John Watson is gone._


	3. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attraction is such a mysterious thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. IT'S BEEN LIKE, A MILLION YEARS, I KNOW. ;-;  
> I really almost gave up on this series, but all your wonderful comments kept me going. I've been struggling through the end of school, anxiety, depression, a whole mess of things. I really didn't know if I'd ever be able to write anything more with this, but my inspiration hit me today. I kept with it all day, so this isn't edited too well. If there are a lot of mistakes, I apologise. It's not my best, but I'm really happy with it. Thank you so much to anybody who reads this, I'm so grateful that you're still reading after so long. Your support means the world to me! Love you all! :)  
> \- Annie

John was fascinated with Sherlock’s hands. From the elegant lines in his smooth palms, to the faint traces of calluses on his fingertips, he was just obsessed with them. Sherlock’s left hand was squeezing his right, and his long fingers completely enveloped John’s.

“It’s okay,” Sherlock had whispered into John’s ear as he was directed straight out of the auction’s doors. It felt like freedom, only it was entirely the opposite.

“I’m here,” Sherlock said that a lot as well, and John believed him. He clung to him, to his master. He was a good pet, he was a good—

He heard a clink, and his collar was jostled.

“Sir, if I ma—”

“Stop that, John,” Sherlock chastised, and John held his tongue, his brow furrowing.

“Sir, I don’t understand,” John replied, and the older man just huffed out a breath.

“I’m not your sir, or your master. No Mister Holmes. I’m not a daddy either, so don’t get any ideas, okay? I’m just Sherlock,” he told John, and the blond didn’t quite manage to muffle his chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Sherlock replied, grumpily. Like an old man with his spouse.

“You’re not _just Sherlock_. You’re my hero! You saved me being bought by a scraggly, greasy rapist old enough to have raised me and my children and their children after them,” he said, lifted a hand to rub his nape, relieved to have the heavy collar off his shoulders. Sherlock had tucked the collar, along with the leash hooked up to it, away into his briefcase. John was still naked, and the leather of the automobile’s seats made him incredibly uncomfortable. Sherlock noticed.

“Here,” He stripped off his long, woolen coat, and offered it up to John. When the blond didn’t immediately accept it, Sherlock rolled his eyes and draped it over John’s body. The brunet smelled quite nice, very masculine. John trembled, licking his lips as he gazed up at Sherlock. Their eyes were glued together, those endless streams of colour just devouring John’s every thought for what seemed like forever. Once they parted, the adolescent inhaled sharply, not having realised how still he had become in those long moments.

“Better?” Sherlock mumbled as he straightened up, looking a little flustered. That made John feel a little...proud, if one will. To get a man as powerful and strait-laced as Sherlock appeared to be to flush and shy away, that was certainly an accomplishment.

“Yes, but... May I ask you something, Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” Sherlock was fishing his mobile out of his pocket, tapping away at the screen while he waited for John to speak. The lad hesitated for a moment, but didn’t keep quiet for too long.

“Why did you pay so much for me?”

“I didn’t.”

“Of course you did! I saw you exchange the money for me.”

“The envelope was empty,” Sherlock told him, as nonchalant as anybody could be while confessing such a thing. John didn’t understand.

“Why... Sherlock, I don—” John didn’t have a long enough moment to say he didn’t understand, and that was because of the blare of sirens as police vehicles came from seemingly all directions.

“I wonder what’s going on,” the adolescent mumbled as he glanced out the window, chewing at his bottom lip a little.

“They’re shutting the auction down. Arresting everybody responsible inside.”

“What?” John’s head whipped around, his eyes as large as ever as he stared at his Ma—at Sherlock.

“I sent for them.” Sherlock said, referring to his mobile as a satisfied grin unfurled across his lips. The young blond was absolutely clueless as to what had just happened. Then, well...then everything logical processed in his mind.

“You never really wanted me, then? It was all a trick?”

“Of course not, John. I’m not interested in a mate, especially not one like you.”

_Especially not one like you_. That stung. John tried very much to concentrate on all the noise outside, but his thoughts wrapped around those five words tighter and tighter as the seconds passed, refusing to allow the omega to forget. He was nothing special, not what his—what the alpha wanted. He sighed, hanging his head as he pulled the lapels of the long coat still wrapped snugly around his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, just listening to all the commotion outside. He heard Scratchy Voice and the old man arguing, cursing Sherlock Holmes with quite a lot of enthusiasm. He heard the older man chuckle, and peeked over at him. He looked positively _giddy_ because of this organisation crumbling apart because of his actions.

“Are you an officer?” he asked after a long while, still not looking up at the brunet.

“No. Consulting detective.”

“Is that any different from a normal detective?”

“Yes, of course it is. I’m the only consulting detective in the world, I invented the job.”

“If you invented your own job, why are you working with the police?”

“They need my assistance,” Sherlock vaguely explained to him, and John nodded slowly, not saying anything more. He didn’t need to, anyways. A man approached Sherlock’s window, tapping to alert him. Sherlock eased it down, grinning wider than any adaption of the Cheshire Cat.

“Hello, Lestrade,” he greeted the man, and John simply bowed his head a little in acknowledgement.

“Is that the kid, then?” Lestrade inquired, peeking in for a quick glance-over at the adolescent.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“What are you going to do with him? Send him back home?”

“No! No, of course not. They’ll just find him again, and that’s tedious. I’ll keep him with me.”

“In your flat? Are you sure?”

“I have another bedroom, Lestrade, upstairs. It’s not an issue.”

“Yes, but... Sherlock, can’t you smell it?”

“Smell what?”

“He’s been fed suppressants for so long, and his body is beginning to alter itself in preparation for his first heat. If you bring him to your flat, by the time his heat begins, he’s going to have your scent all over everything. It’ll be horrible for him. I mean, you’re not planning on joining him for his heat, are you?”

“God, no! Never, Lestrade, you know that. I don’t want anything to do with such biological nonsense.”

John frowned, but still kept quiet. There was no reason for him to voice any of his opinions. Honestly, it was probably much better for him to keep his mouth shut. It was his body that desired Sherlock, nothing else. He didn’t want to get into any messy situations because of his first heat and him being unable to control himself. He thought about it all as Lestrade and Sherlock spoke, before clearing his throat.

“I’ll go somewhere else. Don’t worry about me, Sherlock. I’ll be okay,” Each word felt like another twist of a knife into his heart. Damn everything. Why did he always have to get so attached to everything?

“Absolutely not. Don’t you even think about it,” Sherlock told him, the words spilling from his lips without any hesitation.

“Sherlock, he should...” Lestrade paused, the other alpha’s glare practically palpable.

“He’ll stay with Molly. She’ll be glad to assist him.”

“Who’s Molly?” John asked them, nervous. He’d never met a female alpha before, and certainly wasn’t planning on such.

“She’s an omega friend of mine. She can help you through your heat. After it’s over, I’ll get you on suppressants regularly again. Until you find an alpha to mate with, I’ll keep you with me.”

John couldn’t believe any of what he was hearing, but he didn’t want to argue with Sherlock anymore. He was tired of all this. A place to stay and a friendly-sounding omega to help him through his heat was more than he could ever wish for. He gave Sherlock a tight smile, his eyes expressing more disappointment than anything else as he nodded.

“Yes, okay. I’d love to. Thank you.”

He knew he’d probably just be stuck doing all the things omegas were expected to do, which didn’t bother him too much. Him and Clara had loved cleaning the house together or cooking up a fun dinner. Doing everything alone, though...that was going to be much less enjoyable.

“You studied medicine, correct? That would be useful on cases, as Lestrade’s team is rubbish. Ah, and your family’s military history. You wanted to join, yes? Of course, that’d also be a good quality. You must understand the basic mechanics of a gun. That’ll be nice, I dislike carrying mine. You can use it. Are you a good runner? We do an awful lot of chasing when we find our criminals.”

John blinked, mouth falling open a little as he tried to understand all of what Sherlock just said.

“Y-You... You want me to help you?”

“Yes, of course, John. What else was I going to have you do?” Sherlock replied, his laugh a gentle rumble in his chest. John continued to stare at him for the longest time, but before long, there was a smile on his face and his heart may have skipped just a few more beats.

“What’s the address, then? Let’s go.”


End file.
